Harlem's No Place for a Girl
by Samantha Brooklyn
Summary: Sam's a newsie. Well, newsgirl. She soon develops a strong liking to Spot Conlon. Sam thought it would be great, being friends with the ever famous Spot Conlon. But when trouble from Harlem arises, she finds herself in deeper water than she ever imagined.
1. A Knock At the Door

**~I do not own Newsies. I do own the other characters.**

I woke up to the sound of a man yelling.

"_Sell the papes! Wake up! C'mon sell the papers!_" I immediately recognized his voice as Mr. Kloppman, one of the men who worked at the Manhattan Lodging House.

I rolled over in my sheets, drowsy from not having much sleep.

"Hey, Sammy. Let's not be late no more, eh?" Racetrack, my older brother, said to me. He gave me a playful punch.

"Yeah, yeah, shut up." I mumbled sleepily as I opened my eyes.

He then gave me his signature lop-sided smile as he turned around to go get ready. I got out of bed and looked around our neutral colored room. The gray paint was peeling off the walls, and it smelled like dew and sweat. Not every girl's fantasy room, but I was okay with it. I grew up here, and this was home.

The sun was looming through the windows, as if it was eager to optimize me. I hastily got on a clean dress, and walked into the bathroom.

_I hope Pulitzer has got some good headlines on World today, _I thought to myself. And if you're wondering… it _really _does matter to me. That's because I'm a newsie.

Yea, I know whatcha thinking.

_Girls can't be newsies._ But I am.. and have been for as long as I can remember. Race and I live on the unforgiving streets, and the haste of our lifestyle is just something ya get used to... it ain't too bad.

The delicious aroma of eggs and bacon suddenly fills the air. I looked up to see a boy named Skittery, who is 16 years old with messy brown hair and a nice build, up making breakfast. All of the boys started to walk in rowdily and sit down. Our kitchen's pretty big, despite living in a lodging house. It's roomy and has a bunch of tables, so we can't complain.

I sat next to Racetrack and his friend Kid Blink. Kid Blink has blonde hair and blue eyes with an eye patch over one. He's 15 years old, same age as Racetrack, but he's good friends with me. Nobody really knows why he has an eye patch.. we don't ask him since he doesn't like to talk about it.

"Mornin' Blink, how'd you sleep?" my brother asked him.

"Not good. Les was talking in his sleep last night. He's so damn nervous about sellin' papes for the first time."

Les got these big brown eyes and dark, thick hair. He's around nine and is David Jacob's younger brother. They moved here from Virginia the day before, and were adjusting to the "newsie lifestyle".

David and Les don't seem to know much about the whole paper-selling business. It's funny how it all seemed so new and foreign to 'em. They had no clue!

_Breakfasts ready!_ A wave of hungry newsies crowded around the stove.

I run up, trying to weave my way through. After a couple shoves, I get to the stove. One piece of toast is all that's left. I place it on my plate, defeated.

"That's what ya get for being nice, Sam." Racetrack sarcastically smirks. "You'se gotta toughen up, girlie."

"Shut ya trap, Race. It ain't funny." I retort.

Don't get me wrong, I love Race (and his big mouth), but sometimes I wish he didn't use it on me.

I decide to sit down next to Mush. He's devouring every little last bit of his breakfast. _Man, that look's good ,_I say as I eye his meal. I take a sheepish bite of my toast.

Then, out of nowhere, there's an impatient knock on the door.

"OPEN UP! THIS IS MR. SNYDER FROM THE REFUGE. I DEMAND YOU!"

Everyone freezes, and I take a quivering breath…

_Oh shit.. this __cannot__ be happening.._


	2. Stormy Blue Eyes

Jack Kelly got up from his chair and walked up to the door. What was he thinking? He was already in trouble with Snyder. If I were him, I'd beat it out of there in a heartbeat.

"Why you are here, sir?" Jack said, trying to sound more innocent, and less nervous. We waited for Snyder's response, but there is no answer.

"Why are you here, Mr. Snyder?"

I felt my ears get hot and my face get all red. This is it, I thought to myself. We're busted. He's going to open that door and drag us all down to the refuge. I looked up to see what Jack is going to do...

He reached for the doorknob.

My heart dropped. I immediately felt the room get real hot and stuffy, and foolishly thought that I might die of a heat stroke before Snyder even stepped foot in the room.

Jack opened it, and there in the doorway, is Spot Conlon with a smug smirk on his face.

I felt my color coming back and my pounding heart went back to a normal rate.

"Spot! Jesus Christ, you scared me to death! What the hell, man?" Jack said, and tried to sound stern. .. He couldn't help but smile. Spot was always causing trouble like that, deceiving and cheating people. He cheated on girls, too. One woman just wasn't good enough for Spot Conlon. Maybe for one night, but definitely not for the long-term. That was one problem Spot struggled with… loyalty.

"No, Jacky boy, the question is what's wrong with you." He fought.

"Oh yeah, what's wrong with me?"

"You know that you too good a criminal to have Snyder find out where you are." Spot grinned and they reaffirm their friendship with a spit-handshake.

"So, Spot… are them Harlem boys giving youse trouble lately?" Racetrack said as he shuffled the deck of playing cards.

"Oh, hell yeah. It seems like every day another punk comes into my territory and challenges me about it. Do they know who the hell they are? The assholes don't know who they're dealin' with. Me. The Spot Conlon." Spot replied arrogantly. "And they gonna pay the consequences... just wait until I get my hands on them." I grew up with these boys my whole life… excluding Spot Conlon. As a matter of fact, I met him that very night. Spot Conlon is some character. He's about fifteen years old… but don't let his age deceive you. He was known for this gold-tipped cane that he carries around in his belt loop. I'd heard some alarming stories about that cane, and most people knew then that he was not one to mess with.

He was completely unpredictable. One day he'd be in a good mood, and in the blink of an eye, he'd change. He'd change to his conceited, abrasive, demanding, and conceited self. As you can tell, I didn't have a lot of respect for the guy.

But that night, he did something that caught me completely off guard.

He winked at me. Never in my life did I feel so great. Sure, he was a womanizer, but at the time, I didn't care. I didn't know the feeling of hurt and regret yet.

Spot was beautiful. He had stormy blue eyes and rough, dark brown hair. But his eyes… they were stunning. They changed with his moods. Most of the time they were blue; the kind of blue that the sky is when a storm is stirring.

I didn't know his story. How had he become the king? The King of Brooklyn is what people called him. But why... what did he do to earn it? I had always wondered, until one night, I found out. But I'd pushed his patience and his limits and took things too far. Little did I know what Spot Conlon was capable of… his lying, cheating, distrust, but most of all… his loyalty. His devotion.


End file.
